SONG OP THE CHILDREN ABOUT SPRING. 129 



No flowers to weep them in dew-glistening eyes, 



Or climb in sweet odors up with them to the skies 1 



They go with the chill of his breath on their wings, 



Till they come to where Heaven's own fire-fountain springs. 



VII. 



But joy ! joy ! a love-breath shall rout him ! 



Sing merrily O ! 



The tyrant must go 

 Bundle that ghastly mantle about him, 



That mantle of snow 



That beginneth to show 

 His shrunk limbs like grave clothes rent on a corse ; 



And far, fast and high 



Old shrunk-shanks must fly ; 

 Or what o'ertakes him than death shall be worse, 



For zephyrs go by 



Who tell spring is nigh 

 And rather than kiss her he'd many times die ! 



VIII. 



Ah ! hah, she is coming 



The merry-eyed maiden ! 

 "We hear them far humming 



Her train flower-laden. 



For tripping sprites are they 



In beamy joyous throngs 

 Swiftly their light feet play, 



Cadent to mellow songs. 



Now old Gray-Beard must flee 

 Quite as fast as may be. 

 Could they only but catch, 

 How they'd tease the cross wretch 

 9 



